


The Summer King

by bitterheart



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Exes, Getting Back Together, M/M, Seasonal Monarchs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27992217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterheart/pseuds/bitterheart
Summary: The magical signature of the letter in Dimitri's hands is one that Felix knows as well as his very own. It settles on Felix's tongue and the memory it brings is one of warm hands and warmer eyes. A smile that would have melted ice.Having spent his childhood in the Winterlands, Sylvain returns to his home in the Summerlands without making contact with his old friends for years. Now that he's reaching out again, Felix wants nothing to do with him.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 72
Collections: Sylvix Advent Calendar





	The Summer King

**Author's Note:**

> Art by the lovely [Keyp0n](https://twitter.com/Keypy0n)!

Felix knows something is off from the moment he steps into Dimitri's office. 

It's a typical morning at the height of winter. The fireplace to the side is already crackling away and there are two steaming mugs of coffee sitting on Dimitir's desk, one for him and one waiting for Felix. The curtains have been pulled open, filling the room with the pale light now that last night's snowstorm settled, and the floor-to-ceiling window behind Dimitri's desk looks out over the frozen expanse of the kingdom, blanketed under another heavy layer of white.

It's the same storm that would have stopped any regular courier in their tracks, and there are far fewer letters to go through this morning for that very reason. The only ones that would have made it to the king's desk this morning would have done so by magical means and this morning, that means only one. 

The magical signature of the letter in Dimitri's hands is one that Felix knows as well as his very own. It settles on Felix's tongue and the memory it brings is one of warm hands and warmer eyes. A smile that would have melted ice. 

Dimitri takes a breath, the apprehension and apology in his eyes confirming Felix's suspicions. "We've received a letter from—"

"Save it," Felix interrupts. He can't hear the name now, and doesn't trust that Dimitri won't use it—not to hurt him, but out of some foolish sentiment. He can see the broken seal on the envelope sitting on Dimitri's desk. The royal family of the Summer Kingdom haven't been in contact for several years. Felix has long since stopped waiting for letters at all. 

Dimitri places the letter on his desk, carefully smoothing out the folds. He doesn't make eye contact with Felix. 

"There was another letter in the envelope," Dimitri tells him. "For you."

With a sharp laugh, Felix snatches up the envelope, shaking out the small piece of parchment inside as he crosses the room. He barely touches it, feeding it directly into the fireplace. He pretends his eyes don't catch on the achingly familiar handwriting, and that the tightening in his chest means nothing. "I am the Duke, and chief advisor to the King of Winter. If the Summer Kingdom want to make contact with me, there are official channels for that. If their advisor wants to talk to me, he can follow protocol." 

"Felix," Dimitri sighs, with something that sounds far too close to pity. "There was a change in succession in the Summer Kingdom. Their new king would like to re-establish the relationship between the Summer and Winter kingdoms." 

Felix sits in the seat in front of Dimitri's desk, his hands balled into fists in his lap to stop himself from reaching for the letter so he can read it for himself. "New king, you say."

Dimitri hums in thought, leaning back in his seat. "He will make a better king than his older brother, at least."

Felix exhales loudly and pinches the bridge of his nose. He reaches for his coffee, savouring the bitterness of it and the heat against his tongue. He reminds himself that this isn't Dimitri's fault. "Well? I know you have a plan and we both know I'm not going to like it, so you may as well spit it out."

"Perhaps we could invite their king to visit. He is no stranger to our kingdom, after all. It would be nice to be able to catch up, after all these years." Dimitri pauses for a moment. "I know you were both close before he left—"

"I want nothing to do with him," Felix cuts him off. "I will interact with the King of Summer in an official capacity. I will be polite to our guests. Don't ask anything more of me." 

Dimitri's expression softens. "I'm sure there was a reason behind everything."

"I don't care." Felix shakes his head firmly. He repeats it louder, for good measure. "I don't care about him, or anything he has to say." 

By lunch time, they've made arrangements for the upcoming visit and sent word back to the Summerlands. Felix refuses to think about it as anything more than a diplomatic visit. He does all the preparation needed for Dimitri to discuss policy and trade, hoping that if he keeps himself busy enough, he won't have to think about exactly who they're inviting back into these halls.

It works until early afternoon, when Ingrid knocks on the door to his office with so much force that she nearly knocks the door right off its hinges.

"It is true?" She asks him, still dressed in her knight armour from her earlier excursion to help clear a path through the heavy snow. "You've received word from Sylvain?"

Felix flinches at the name, even though he wasn't the one to say it. He sits back down at his desk, avoiding eye contact. "The letter wasn't addressed to me. Why don't you go bother Dimitri about it instead?"

"Who do you think told me?" Ingrid sits down opposite Felix, arms folded across her chest. "He also told me about the letter that _was_ addressed to you. The one you refused to read."

"I'd forgotten about that already," Felix lies. "I don't have the time for this. There are meetings to organise and reports to prepare. Leave me alone."

Predictably, Ingrid doesn't. "I know he hurt you, Felix. I know you're angry at him for it, and angrier at yourself for letting it happen but maybe he had a reason for it. Maybe, if you just talked to him…"

"I don't understand why you think it's any of your business," Felix snaps, rising to his feet and pointing at the door. "I. Don't. _Care_. Now leave." 

Ingrid goes to the door, then pauses. "You'll have to face him when he's here, you know. You can lie to us, or lie to him about how you feel but please don't lie to yourself. It's not going to help anything." 

"Noted," he says dryly, and locks his door once she's gone.  
  
  


* * *

They meet for the first time when Glenn is still alive and Felix has no intention of ever becoming Duke. It's Glenn who introduces them, thrilled to have an important guest to show off to his little brother.

"This is the Prince of Summer," Glenn says, his hand a reassuring weight on Felix's shoulder. "He's not the crown prince like Dima, but he's here to learn all about how to be a good advisor from me."

His name is Sylvain. It's his true name and Felix doesn't know if it was a gesture of trust from the royal family of the Summerlands, or his own choice. When Felix says it, his name tastes of warmth, like summer itself. Names are personal, only to be used by those closest and most important to someone. Glenn's name tastes like the first snow of winter. Felix knows that his own tastes like the pine that stays sturdy and green, even under the thickest layer of snow. 

"Felix," Sylvain says with a smile. When they shake hands, Sylvain's skin is warm. "It's a pleasure to meet you."  
  
  


* * *

The Summer King arrives a few days later, with a small retinue.

Dimitri waits at the gate to welcome their guests. He doesn't ask Felix to come with him but he's there anyway, hands balled into fists at his sides as he watches the carriages pull up to the palace. 

"You could have made up an excuse to get out of this," Dimitri whispers, placing a hand on Felix's back. "I cannot think of the last time I have ever seen you this tense."

"There's no point," Felix mutters. "I can't avoid him so there's no point in trying. Might as well get this over with." 

Dimitri squeezes his shoulder comfortingly as the door of the first carriage opens, and the Summer King steps out.

The years that they've spent apart have been incredibly kind to Sylvain. He's taller and broader, his skin sun-kissed in a way that it never had been in all the years he'd spent here. It's unfair, just how gorgeous he is when all Felix wants to do is pretend he isn't here at all. 

Sylvain's gaze finds him like a compass finds true north. Then, immediately after, he notices the hand Dimitri is still resting against Felix's shoulder. Sylvain's expression doesn't change, even as his gaze lingers on Felix looking for something Felix refuses to give him.

"Sylvain," Dimitri greets happily, stepping forward and placing both hands on Sylvain's shoulders. "I am so happy to see you again. It is good to welcome you back here after so long."

Smiling, Sylvain pulls Dimitri into a hug. "Sorry it's taken so long. I reached out as soon as I could."

"I was happy to hear from you. You have been sorely missed."

The smile on Sylvain's face freezes and his gaze flicks over to Felix again. His voice is lower when he speaks. "Have I?"

Felix scoffs, refusing to meet Sylvain's eyes as he looks to Dimitri instead. "There's work that needs to be done before dinner."

"Of course." Dimitri dismisses him with a nod. "I appreciate your work, Felix. See you at dinner."

"Wait," Sylvain says, so softly that Felix barely hears it. "Please."

Felix doesn't look back, even as he pauses. "No. I think I've waited long enough."  
  
  


* * *

When Glenn dies, Felix refuses to leave his room for a week.

The nobles of the court are treating his death as a sacrifice worthy of merit. Felix can't stand the thought of everyone praising Glenn for dying a brave death when all he could have ever been was scared and alone save for the company of an unconscious prince.

Glenn and Dimitri had been hunting when they were caught by a sudden blizzard. The royal guard had found them two days later, and only one of them had been breathing. Glenn used the last of his magic to keep Dimitri safe from the elements, and had been left with no way of protecting himself. 

To make matters worse, Felix's father hadn't even been able to wait until after the funeral before talking to him about taking up Glenn's role as heir to the dukedom and future advisor of the boy his brother died to save. 

It's Sylvain who finally convinces Felix to unlock his door, to let him inside instead of trying to drag Felix out of it. He says nothing of the mess across Felix's floor from his earlier fit of anger. When Felix goes back to lie on his bed, Sylvain simply sits on the floor beside it and leans back. 

"I'm sorry about Glenn," Sylvain tells him, as quiet and subdued as Felix has ever seen him. "So is Dima."

Felix sighs, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. "If anyone has a right to feel worse than I do, it's him. You saw his face, when he woke up and realised Glenn was gone. I'm never going to forget that look."

Sylvain makes a soft sound, shifting closer to the bed and covering Felix's hand with his own. "It's not about who gets the right to feel a certain way. You don't have to hide the way you feel around him. Or me. Or anyone." 

Felix huffs out a mirthless laugh, curling his fingers in Sylvain's. "You're one to talk, hiding behind your fake smiles all the time." 

"But never for you, right?" Sylvain strokes his thumb along the back of Felix's hand absently, until he realises what he's doing and stops. His fingers are still warm against Felix's skin. "Every single time I smile at you, I mean it. I always will, and that's a promise."  
  
  


* * *

At dinner, Sylvain sits by Dimitri's side as his honoured guest. Felix sits as far away from them as is polite, which results in him being seated beside a petite woman with red hair and bright blue eyes.

Her name is Lady Dominic but she quickly follows it up with, "but you can call me Annette! I know you have formalities around true names in your kingdom but everyone in the Summer Court uses their true names. It's a change that King Sylvain made when he took the throne." 

"Is that so." Felix is facing away from Sylvain but even so, he can pick out the sound of his voice and his laughter from the background noise. He forces his attention back to Annette. "A sign that you all trust each other, I imagine."

Annette's smile brightens. "That's exactly it. You know King Sylvain well—but of course you do. You're Duke Fraldarius, after all. Advisor to the Winter King and childhood friend of both him and King Sylvain." 

"Oh, well, if you know everything already, then there's no point in introducing myself, is there?" Felix asks wryly.

"Oh—no! Not at all!" Annette's eyes go wide. "I didn't mean to cause any disrespect! I shouldn't have talked over you like that."

She looks so genuinely distressed that Felix can't help but laugh. The sound catches that attention of everyone else at the table, who pause their conversations and stare. Felix masks it as a cough and glares around at everyone, until Dimitri starts talking again and draws attention away from Felix. Sylvain's gaze lingers for another moment but Felix is the first to turn away, back to Annette.

"I didn't mind," he clarifies, biting back his smile at the way she's flushed bright pink. "I find small talk exhausting. I appreciate you taking care of all of it yourself."

"Are you mocking me, Lord Fraldarius?" Annette asks, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Am I—what?" Felix frowns. "Why would I?"

"King Sylvain always loves talking about his time in the Winterlands," Annette tells him. "He'd talk about everyone he met and spent his time with. He always talked about you the most." 

"If you say so," Felix mutters, focusing on the food in his plate so he doesn't do something stupid like glance at Sylvain. 

"It's funny," Annette continues in between bites of her food, "King Sylvain would talk about you so much that it feels like I've already met you. Oh—but don't worry. He only ever had nice things to say about you!"

"I'm doubtful about that." Felix scoffs quietly. "I don't think there are that many nice things to say about me. Or interesting things, for that matter."

Annette only smiles at him with a knowing glint in her eyes that Felix doesn't like or understand. He looks away, desperate to change the topic to something else. His gaze lands on Ingrid, sitting across the table from him and engrossed in conversation with another member of Sylvain's court. This one has dark brown curls and bright green eyes that are fixed on Ingrid as they speak. She's the same kind of beautiful as the girls that Sylvain would spend his days flirting with instead of paying attention to their lessons when they were younger and the thought sits uncomfortably in Felix's chest accompanied with a flicker of jealousy that he immediately stamps out. 

"That's Lady Arnault," Annette whispers when she notices Felix looking. "Dorothea is kind and the best at not taking King Sylvain's nonsense. That's why he made her his advisor. They met when she was still an opera singer and she's always been the best at wrangling him."

"An opera singer?" Felix asks, just as quietly. He looks away from Dorothea before she can catch him staring. "His advisor is a singer?" 

"Is there something wrong with singing?" Annette asks him, squaring her tiny shoulders and lifting her chin. 

"Of course not," Felix replies. "It doesn't matter, as long as she can do her job. It's just that when we were still young and training to be advisors—well, that's the thing. We studied for years."

"And we know what it's actually like, for people who live outside of the Summer palace," Annette says evenly. "When King Sylvain took the throne… well, thanks to everything that happened with the royal family, he didn't want to keep things the way they were, with the rigid structure of nobility. Of all the people he appointed to his court, none of us were from noble families. He wanted to appreciate people for who they were, not for their families."

"Everything that happened with the royal family?" Felix frowns. "What do you mean by that?"

Annette blinks at him. "I—oh. I thought he had explained it to you." 

Felix remembers the letter he fed into Dimitri's fireplace and leans back in his seat. "He might have tried to."

"It's not my place to tell you about it. I'm sure he'll do it himself." 

Felix nods, already losing himself in speculation of what could have possibly happened. It's been a long time since he's let himself come up with excuses for Sylvain's years of silence but even before, he couldn't ignore the fact that Sylvain had never seemed to get along with his family. There had to be a reason he was sitting on the throne instead of his brother. 

Annette keeps the conversation light for the rest of their meal and Felix is grateful for the fact that she can talk so much because it means that he doesn't need to. He nods in the right parts and she doesn't seem bothered when he gets too introspective. He's grateful for her company, making a mental note to sit with her more often while Sylvain and his retinue are visiting. 

By the end of dinner, everyone is breaking off into smaller groups to continue their dinner conversations. Felix notices Ingrid, pink-cheeked as she walks away with Dorothea's arm linked in hers. One of the other members of the Summer Court, Ashe, is eagerly following Dedue out into the gardens to take a better look at the kinds of plants that he has been able to maintain in the cold of the Winterlands. 

Sylvain is hanging back, watching him without even trying to mask how hopeful he is. Felix looks to Annette at his side, mustering his most polite smile.

"I have work to attend to," he says, loud enough for Sylvain to hear. "Excuse me."

He walks past Sylvain, exchanging a look with Dimitri on his way out of the dining hall as he escapes to the safety of his study. 

Unfortunately, the pile of work waiting for his attention isn't as high as he'd been hoping for. It's still enough to keep him busy for a good hour and by the time he's signed his last document and left it to be collected by a courier, he figures that it's late enough that he's unlikely to run into anyone else. 

He's too wound up to sleep, so he heads for the gardens instead. They're quiet at this time of night, and cold enough that even most people of the Winter Court wouldn't choose to stroll them now. Felix wraps his thick cloak around himself a little tighter and takes a deep breath, letting it clear his mind.

He feels the presence behind him before he hears anything that gives it away. He turns, one hand automatically resting on the pommel of his sword even though he already knows there's no need to draw it. He already knows it's Sylvain.

Their eyes meet and for a moment they stand there frozen in time, holding each other's gaze while separated by the row of winter rose bushes that Dedue has carefully maintained. Sylvain's wearing the same fur-lined ensemble he's worn all night, not bothering with an extra cloak now that he's outside. He was always better at dealing with the cold.

"Your Majesty," Felix says at last, breaking the silence. 

Sylvain opens his mouth, then shuts it. There's disappointment in the line of his mouth, in the droop of his shoulders. "That's not how I was hoping you would address me."

"I'm not going to use your name."

"Why not?" Sylvain steps around the bush, his movements slow and measured as if he's hunting and has Felix in his sights. "You used to." 

"You're the Summer King." Felix holds his ground, refusing to back away from Sylvain. He can feel the warmth as Sylvain approaches, even when they're not even close enough to touch. It radiates from him, and makes Felix want to reach out. He balls his hands into fists at his sides. "Even if things are different in your court, you're a guest in the Winterlands. It's only polite."

"Polite." Sylvain laughs softly. Another step and they're chest to chest. Sylvain, forever taller than Felix, looks down at him with a raised eyebrow. "When have you ever been polite? Don't start now."

"In that case, let me make myself perfectly clear," Felix says, holding his chin high and forcing himself to meet Sylvain's eyes. "I'm not calling you by your name. I'm not going to melt in your presence like everyone else. You had the chance to keep what we had, years ago, and you didn't. Not even one single letter over the years and, what? You expect me to be happy that you've finally decided we're worth your time?"

"Would you even have read any of the letters I would have sent, if I could?" Sylvain asks bitterly, grabbing for Felix's arm, "or would they have been tossed into the fire as well?"

Felix growls under his breath. "Dimitri."

"So you'll say his name but not mine, even though he's your king?" Sylvain bares his teeth in a smile with no kindness to it. "It's good to know where I stand."

Felix shakes himself free of Sylvain's grip. "Get off me." 

"F—" 

" _Don't_ ," Felix snarls at him. "My name is not yours to use. I will treat you with the respect that I will show any guest of this kingdom but nothing more. It doesn't matter what we had before you left. It's gone now. There's no point in dwelling on it."  
  
  


* * *

" _Sylvain_."

It's late in the afternoon and the temperature is starting to drop. Felix is already in a bad mood, knowing that the coming snowstorm is going to mean that the hunting trip that they'd been planning is going to be postponed. It only gets worse when he finds that his studying partner, who has been conspicuously absent for all their lessons since lunch time, has been spending his time flirting with the palace servants. 

Sylvain, currently leaning against a wall as he talks to one of the younger maids, straightens up at his name. He turns to look over his shoulder, smiling lazily as if he's been waiting for Felix all along. "There you are." 

"You're going to get us both in trouble," Felix grumbles, grabbing Sylvain by the back of his jacket and dragging him away without a second look at the flustered maid. "Stop bothering other people and just focus on doing your work." 

"I'd hardly say I was _bothering_ her," Sylvain replies, regaining his balance and falling in step with Felix, who still doesn't let go of his jacket. "I think she liked it." 

Felix thinks of the way Sylvain had been leaning into her space, and the way she had been blushing. He can only imagine how Sylvain had smiled at her. "Who would like that?" 

"What's that, Felix?" Sylvain loops an arm around Felix's shoulders. "Is that jealousy I hear? If you needed my help, you only had to say the word. If you're curious, I can find you a nice girl." 

Felix shrugs Sylvain's arm off, growling under his breath. "You don't need another excuse to waste your time. If you really wanted to help me, you'd pay attention to our lessons and actually focus on what we're meant to be doing. I'm trying as hard as I can to catch up with everything and learn what I need so I can be a good advisor to Dimitri when he's the king. I don't intend to be working opposite someone who can't keep up with me."

Sylvain's expression goes shuttered then. His steps slow and he looks around, the way he always does when he's seeking out a distraction from something he'd rather not dwell on. Felix doesn't give him the time to find it, grabbing Sylvain's arm and pulling on it until they're facing each other. 

"I'm not going to know what's going on unless you tell me." Felix sets his jaw, frowning at Sylvain. "We're supposed to be partners when we step into our positions. I can't help you if you're not going to talk to me."

With a strained laugh, Sylvain shakes his head and turns away. "You can't help me with this."

"I can listen." 

Sylvain sighs, glancing around them before he finally nods. He takes hold of Felix's wrist and pulls him along, until they're in the privacy of his room. Felix is breathless in a way that feels excessive for a short walk, even if he spent the entire time with Sylvain's fingers on his skin. 

"It's my brother," Sylvain says once they're alone, with the door shut. His voice is quiet and bitter, in a way that Felix has never heard before. "He isn't going to listen to a single thing I say, no matter how many hours I put into studying policy or history. He doesn't care now, and he isn't going to care once he's king. There's no point in being an advisor in the Summer Kingdom. If I already know that none of my advice is going to be taken, why should I even bother training to be a good advisor?" 

Felix frowns. Sylvain sighs, slumping back against the wall and resting his head against it with a dull thud. Felix steps closer, not even sure of what he's doing unless he slots himself against Sylvain's side, pressed together from shoulder to hip. Sylvain looks down at him in surprise, bringing his arm around Felix's shoulders to pull him in closer. 

"When I was still new to this," Felix says slowly, "you reminded me about something Glenn always used to say, about how an advisor's work isn't always done in the open. It's about everything that happens in the background too. It doesn't matter if your brother is too big of a fool to listen to good advice when he hears it. If you care about your kingdom, you'll find a way to help it. I believe in you." 

"You're right." Sylvain smiles, squeezing Felix's shoulder gently and sending a flurry of butterflies loose in his chest. "I appreciate it, Felix."  
  
  


* * *

Sylvain and his retinue stay in the Winterlands for a week. Felix manages to avoid Sylvain for six days.

The morning before Sylvain leaves, he's waiting for Felix in the training hall just after dawn. 

"What are you doing?" Felix asks, walking over to the weapons rack. 

"I'm just here looking for a sparring partner," Sylvain says, leaning against his training spear. He smiles at Felix, warm as ever. "I was just thinking to myself that I would invite the next person who walked through those doors to a spar with me. Who knew so few people would be up and about at this hour?" 

"Stop this," Felix growls.

"I'm leaving this afternoon," Sylvain replies. "I just want to spar with you once." 

"Fine. We'll spar." Felix picks out a sword, testing the weight in his hands before he turns to Sylvain. "Nothing more." 

Sylvain smiles like Felix has promised the world to him. He settles into his stance and Felix only has a moment to realise that he looks much more comfortable holding his spear now than he ever did when they were younger. Then he's stumbling backwards, already on the defensive as Sylvain swings his spear, making it arc with deadly grace. He barely manages to get his sword up to block it as Sylvain spins it into an overhead strike, sliding within range to slash out at him. 

With a soft laugh, Sylvain dances out of reach. His eyes are bright and focused, in a way that Felix has never seen in a sparring session before. "I hope you're not going easy on me just because we were childhood friends, Lord Fraldarius." 

Felix grits his teeth together, pushing himself to fight harder. It doesn't matter that he's made the mistake of underestimating Sylvain. It's not a mistake he's going to repeat. 

Still, Sylvain manages to keep pace with him. Felix has always been the better fighter between the two of them, and it's a skill that he's maintained over the years. Sylvain is bigger and stronger than him, and he's finally learned to use both of those things to his advantage. Sylvain wins by sweeping Felix's feet out from under him, sending him crashing to the floor. Felix lies there for a moment, blinking at the ceiling as he tries to process what just happened.

"You okay?" Sylvain asks, offering him a hand up.

Felix takes it, figuring it's the least he can do. He dusts himself off and picks up his sword. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"Do you remember when I left the Winterlands, all those years ago," Sylvain says, "and we both thought it was just going to be a quick visit home before I came back?"

Felix sighs, rolling his shoulders and putting his training sword away. "If you're waiting for me to ask you what happened—" 

"I'm not," Sylvain replies, reaching around Felix to put his training spear back in its place. He stays where he is, unbearably warm against Felix's back even though they're not touching. "Waiting never did us any good. I'm telling you what happened when I went home. If you're not interested in listening, you don't have to. You told me once that even if you couldn't help me, you could listen. That's all I'm asking you to do. Please."

Despite everything, Felix stays where he is. "Tell me, then."

"By the time I went back to the Summerlands, my parents had already decided that Miklan wasn't strong enough to be the king they wanted." Sylvain steps away from Felix, running a hand through his hair and shaking it free of sweat, completely unaware of how easily he steals Felix's breath away with such a simple action. "I didn't know it when I was young but they'd always been considering replacing him with me. No wonder he hated me so much. It was so strange, coming to the Winterlands for the first time and meeting Glenn, seeing how he was with you. It was the opposite of everything I knew with Miklan." 

It's been years since Felix has had to read between the lines of Sylvain's words but this time, his meaning is clear. It makes him think of all the times Sylvain would talk about the Summerlands when he was younger, and the way he always sounded much happier for being away from home. 

"I guess I'm just a sucker, though," Sylvain laughs. "When I realised my parents were planning on getting rid of Miklan so they could name me the heir, I tried to help him anyway. He didn't care about staying alive as much as he cared about making sure that he was making my life as miserable as possible. Between him trying to pin all the blame on me and my parents trying to control everything, everything ended up being thrown into chaos. No one would trust me, thanks to Miklan making it sound like I'd defected to the Winter Kingdom and only came back to kill him. My parents had the entire Summer Court under their control like puppets and no one would believe that they were the ones who wanted Miklan dead. They got what they thought they wanted and I was the only heir they had left, and the last thing I wanted was for them to realise how much you mattered to me so they could hold that over my head."

"That's why you didn't write?"

Sylvain gives him a strained smile. "All I wanted back then was to write to you. To have letters from you so it didn't feel like I was on my own."

"You fought for the throne," Felix realises, reaching out to touch Sylvain's arm. There's a scar across his bicep that Felix hadn't allowed himself to notice before. He strokes his thumb across the raised line of it with a frown. "And you didn't even want it."

Sylvain covers Felix's hand with his own. "You told me yourself that if I cared for my kingdom, I would find a way to help it. That's all I've been doing in the time I've been away. It's the only thing that could ever keep me from you, I need you to understand that."

Felix sighs, pulling his hand away from Sylvain's. "And here I was avoiding you all this time because I was upset about not hearing from you, when you had more pressing matters to attend to. I could have listened to you when you arrived—"

"It doesn't matter." Sylvain steps closer, until they're nose to nose. He's so warm that Felix feels the heat flare under his collar and crawl down his spine. "I wanted only two things when I came here. To see you, and to have the chance to explain myself. I got both of those things. It's enough for me."

Felix's mouth feels dry. He swallows hard. "Is it?"

Sylvain's eyes darken with desire. He fits his hand against Felix's hip as if it belongs there just as much as any one of his swords. "I think you know the answer to that already."

As Sylvain leans in, Felix stops him with a hand on his chest. Sylvain's breath tickles his lips, warm and tempting, and he huffs with amusement. 

"I know you," Sylvain says, his voice pitched low. Felix can feel the way it rattles through his bones. "I know how much you hate wanting something you can't have. I'm going home, and your place is here. This isn't what you want. This isn't what you deserve."

"If you don't want me," Felix tells Sylvain evenly, "it hurts less if you're just honest about it."

"Imagine that," Sylvain laughs softly. "Me not wanting you. We're more likely to have snow in the Summerlands than for that to ever be true. I could live a hundred lives and in every single one of them, I would never want anyone else."

Felix lets himself smile but he pushes against Sylvain's chest more firmly this time. Enough to push him a step back. "I would be more inclined to believe you if I didn't grow up listening to you say the same thing to every girl who would listen."

Sylvain's face falls. "No—but I mean it. You have to know that I do."

The worst thing is that Felix does. It doesn't change the fact that come nightfall, Sylvain will be back in his kingdom and Felix will be left with nothing more than a familiar kind of loneliness. He finds himself preparing his heart for it already. 

He turns away, eager to escape to his study where he'll have work to distract him from all of this. "I should let you get ready to leave."

"F—Lord Fraldarius." Sylvain's tone is pleading. It stops him in his tracks just as easily as his true name would have. "Can I at least request the company of one of my dearest friends, until it is time to leave? I'm going to miss you once I leave but I don't want to regret not having spent as much time with you as I could have."

There's no way Felix can say no to that. They leave the training yard and have breakfast together on one of the balconies overlooking the gardens. 

"Aren't you cold?" Felix asks, frowning at Sylvain over his steaming cup of tea. "We might be past the coldest point of winter but I wouldn't call it pleasant out here. It must be worse for you."

Sylvain laughs. "Would you believe that I find this more comfortable than the heat of the Summerlands? It's funny, isn't it? My parents made me spend so much of my childhood here that it still feels like home."

Felix fumbles his knife, and it clatters loudly against his plate. He internally curses, knowing there's no way of pretending Sylvain's words haven't affected him. 

"Are you okay?" Sylvain asks, reaching for his hand. 

"I'm fine," Felix snaps, even though he doesn't pull his hand away. He's flicked jam all over his index finger. "I just made a mess, that's all."

"I'll help you." Sylvain pulls Felix's hand to his mouth, sucking the jam off his finger. 

"Sylvain," Felix grits out, unbidden and urgent. The taste of Sylvain's name is heavy on his tongue; sea salt and warm afternoons and all of Felix's favourite spices. 

"Felix," Sylvain sighs and presses a kiss to his knuckles. " _Felix_. I missed saying your name."

Felix has missed hearing it in Sylvain's voice. It feels different to when it's said by anyone else, like Felix can feel the invisible hooks sinking into him and refusing to let go. 

Sylvain is still holding Felix's hand in his when Dimitri walks out onto the balcony. He pauses at the sight of them, then clears his throat quietly.

"Am I interrupting?"

"Of course not," Felix says dryly, and doesn't pull his hand away from Sylvain's grip. "What do you need?"

"I was hoping to find both of you." Dimitri looks between the two of them with a smile. "I know you've avoided joining in on any of my conversations with Sylvain so far this week, but you _are_ my advisor, and I need some advice."

Felix hums suspiciously, pushing out one of the spare seats with his foot. "I'm listening. Sit down."

Dimitri exchanges a look with Sylvain, full of meaning that Felix doesn't understand. Sylvain clearly does, because he only nods in reply, squeezing Felix's hand before he lets go.

"Say a king wanted to step down from his position," Dimitri begins. "And in the absence of any other clear successor to the throne, he wanted to appoint his advisor as the new monarch—"

"You're not stepping down," Felix interrupts easily. "I refuse to even consider the possibility of—oh. No. It's not you at all, is it?"

Sylvain smiles at him, bright as the summer sun. 

Felix gapes at him. "You _just_ spent the past several years fighting for your right to be king."

"I was fighting to break us free of a suffocating system," Sylvain replies. "And I did. I didn't want a kingdom that would accept me as king, I wanted a place that would trust that whoever sat on the throne would take care of them. The kingdom knows Dorothea better than they ever knew me. They already adore her. She'll be the perfect fit."

"Does she know?"

"Of course she does. I had her in all my meetings with Dimitri. A week is barely enough, but I wanted to make sure she would meet Dimitri so we could re-establish the relationship between our kingdoms. Maybe even strengthen it."

"And what about you?" Felix asks. "What were you planning?"

"I was going to leave." Sylvain smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Until this morning, I wasn't exactly sure you wanted me here."

"And now?" Felix presses. He reaches across the table, holding Sylvain's hand firmly. "You know better now?"

"I have work to do in the Summerlands." Sylvain links their fingers together, stroking his thumb along the back of Felix's hand. "I have to help Dorothea settle in as queen. Once I'm done with that…"

"Come back to me," Felix tells him. He feels like his heart is about to burst. "Come home."  
  
  


* * *

They kiss for the first time on the day of the Midwinter Festival.

It's the day before Sylvain is due to return to the Summerlands. Felix tries not to think of the way Sylvain's face had fallen when he received the letter summoning him home. He focuses on the noise of the festival all around him, until it drowns his thoughts out and with them, his fears that they won't let Sylvain return.

Sylvain remains irritatingly optimistic. "They can't be missing me that badly, if they've let me stay here for so long. It's nothing important. I'll be back before you know it."

Felix is silent for most of the day and Sylvain doesn't seem bothered by it. He takes it as permission to drag Felix to every single stall set up for the festival, sampling food and drink until they're both full and tired. As night begins to fall, the crowds grow thicker. Sylvain's hand finds his, and they hold onto each other tightly. Felix feels adrift, not knowing what tomorrow will bring, or any of the days after it while Sylvain is gone. The warm fingers in his own are his only anchor, keeping him present.

"How about we get away from the crowd?" Sylvain asks into his ear. 

Felix has heard Sylvain ask the same question to countless girls, meaning, _do you want to go somewhere private?_ Felix nods anyway. 

Back inside the Winter Palace, they find the tower that overlooks the town square and all of its multicoloured stalls, lit up in the warm glow of faerie light. There are colours playing across the sky, making shapes and patterns and usually, Felix would watch.

Tonight, he can't pull his gaze from Sylvain.

"Don't look so sad," Sylvain murmurs. "You'll make me sad too." 

Felix reaches for him, clutching at his coat. He tries to loosen his grip, but his fingers curl tighter. The truth comes spilling out of him before he can even think to contain it. "I don't want you to go." 

"Oh, Felix," Sylvain sighs. "Felix, Felix, Felix." 

Suddenly, Felix can't stand it. The sound of his name in Sylvain's voice, the warm-sharp buzz of electricity against his skin every time, the depth of this longing. 

He presses Sylvain against the cool stone of their private lookout. Sylvain is ready for him, anticipating him here the same way he does in the training yard, on the ballroom floor, in the classroom. 

They fit together like they were made for it. Their first kiss is in the privacy of the tower while the rest of the kingdom celebrates outside. Their second kiss has Felix in Sylvain's arms, back pressed to the wall. Their third, fourth and fifth are stolen on the way to Felix's room and they lose count there, too wrapped up in each other to care. 

It's much later, with Felix stroking his fingers through Sylvain's hair, that he finds his breath to speak.

"You'll come back?"

Sylvain lifts his head, pressing a kiss to Felix's shoulder. "I swear it. I'll make an oath." 

"Oaths are binding," Felix warns. "We both know the rules."

"And I swear it all the same," Sylvain replies. "Let it bind me. I promise you, Felix, that I'll return to you. I'll come home." 

The magic burns through the air as Sylvain finishes speaking, leaving the smell of the sea and sweet fruit. Sylvain's magic. Felix exhales shakily. 

"I love you," Sylvain whispers against Felix's skin. "I'll come back."  
  
  


* * *

It's three months later, when Felix finds himself waiting at the border of the Winterlands. The air is warmer, and winter has turned to spring, which is turning to summer.

The distant beat of hooves catches his attention and he looks up. His own horse is resting under the shade of some nearby trees. Sylvain refused to take a carriage this time, insisting that riding horseback was enough for just one person. Felix isn't about to complain, when it will bring Sylvain to him quicker. 

"Felix!" Sylvain calls, lifting an arm to wave it over his head. He keeps waving until they're closer. Until Felix's cheeks hurt from smiling. 

Dismounting his horse, Sylvain goes to Felix and lifts him up, spinning him with a grin. "I promised you, didn't I?"

"You did." Felix is breathless, steadying himself with his hands splayed against Sylvain's chest. 

Sylvain is barely wearing anything; the lace of his shirt clings to his shoulders and leaves his chest and back exposed. His shorts have open panels on the sides to show off his bare legs. Felix wants to touch. He wants to throw his cloak around Sylvain's shoulders and keep the sight to himself. 

He wants, and wants, and has spent so long wanting.

Sylvain smiles at him, steady and certain. "I swore that I would come home, Felix. I'm all yours." 

Felix huffs out a soft laugh, and pulls him into a kiss. "Welcome home."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [jaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayeinacross) for the hand-holding and all the trees.


End file.
